On the night before the convocation, Sister Diane and I tuned in for a PBS special called Masters of the Skies. Rain poured outside her sitting room window and kept us indoors for the evening, but the program took us to places of clear air and sunshine. Among the animals featured on the program was the crane. A French pilot had befriended a family of these birds to fly alongside them and film the amazing footage we watched on TV that night.
Coincidentally, Sister Diane had just lent me a book called One Hundred Cranes: Praying with the Chorus of Creation. The book calls us to pray with the mysteries of nature, such as the miraculous legacy of the whooping crane. Hunted nearly to extinction, the remaining population of 29 cranes was granted protection at a wildlife preserve. Their numbers continued to dwindle to an all-time low of 21. Then, after 30 years of the birds’ risky flights to nesting grounds, conservationists rejoiced at the birth of the 100th crane, catching a glimpse of hope for this once-dying species. In light of the “extinctions” we face in our own lives, the book invites us to envision the crane in flight, to “see it soar out of a stormy cloud, like some long-forgotten dream.”
That night before the convocation, I watched the storm brew from the safety of Sister Diane’s window, but I had felt its harsh winds to my core. Like the battered tree branches, I’d been vulnerable to the crippling gusts of grief and change. But the crane had spoken its wisdom to me. Soon, I’d be joined with Ursuline sisters, associates, and friends as we’d journey to our own fertile grounds of kinship, to the place where hope and song is born.
That night before the convocation, I watched the storm brew from the safety of Sister Diane’s window, but I had felt its harsh winds to my core. Like the battered tree branches, I’d been vulnerable to the crippling gusts of grief and change. But the crane had spoken its wisdom to me. Soon, I’d be joined with Ursuline sisters, associates, and friends as we’d journey to our own fertile grounds of kinship, to the place where hope and song is born.
The opening session with Dr. Sandra Schneiders, IHM, discussed the future of religious life, and the themes of her talk resonated with the story of the crane. She began by acknowledging the “biological threats” that endanger religious life in US: a decline in overall population and an increase in the average age. She then ran through a dizzying array of statistics about the rising and falling population of religious in our country. These numbers, however, shouldn’t be taken at face value. She went on to place them in their historical and spiritual context.
Like the cranes that took refuge at the wildlife preserve, Schneiders believes that despite its smaller numbers, the current population of religious is more secure and “healthier” than it has been at other point in history. In the past, the institutionalization of religious life transformed it into a job placement service. The overall population was larger in size, but the numbers were inflated. Today, however, women who take vows are not seeking job opportunities that are exclusive to religious, nor are they turning to it as a last resort. Rather, women today answer the call to religious life in response to a genuine vocation to serve God’s people. As a result, the population is fewer in number, but it stands in stronger solidarity.
Like the cranes that took refuge at the wildlife preserve, Schneiders believes that despite its smaller numbers, the current population of religious is more secure and “healthier” than it has been at other point in history. In the past, the institutionalization of religious life transformed it into a job placement service. The overall population was larger in size, but the numbers were inflated. Today, however, women who take vows are not seeking job opportunities that are exclusive to religious, nor are they turning to it as a last resort. Rather, women today answer the call to religious life in response to a genuine vocation to serve God’s people. As a result, the population is fewer in number, but it stands in stronger solidarity.
Also, people who interpret dwindling numbers as a sign of weakness often neglect to see “weakness” from a Christian perspective. Turning to Scripture, Schneiders cited Saint Paul’s words to the Corinthians: with grace of God, “power is made perfect in weakness,” and therefore, “for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Cor 12:9-10). Schneiders added that Jesus didn’t come to conquer the world but to be conquered by it, and this vulnerability bore the fruits of salvation. Therefore, as followers of Christ, we trust that what the world sees as apparent weakness—with God’s grace—can yield our greatest strength.
As a Clevelander, this Christian understanding of “weakness” resonates with me after witnessing the Cavaliers’ incredible championship win. Game #7 took place during my internship with the Ursuline Sisters, and I joined Sister Helen on the health care patio to watch history being made. The Cleveland Cavaliers did not earn their title by dominance. They rose to greatness through humility and hardship, and after decades of discouragement, they offered the city a glimpse of hope.
That same hopeful spirit pervaded the atmosphere of the Ursuline Convocation. With the grace of cranes, we gathered in conference rooms named after flowers, our fields of prayer and fellowship. It was a time of joy and sorrow, sunshine and rain. We felt the stormy gusts of violence raging through our nation as we received word about the shooting in Dallas. Yet amidst the physical and spiritual storms, I remembered the prayer of the crane. I could picture it “soar out of a stormy cloud, like some long-forgotten dream.” At the end of the final evening’s liturgy, I joined hands with the Mexican sisters. We formed a lengthening chain that wove around the room to the chorus of one of my favorite songs, “We Are Called.”
In light of an uncertain future, today we dance.
As a Clevelander, this Christian understanding of “weakness” resonates with me after witnessing the Cavaliers’ incredible championship win. Game #7 took place during my internship with the Ursuline Sisters, and I joined Sister Helen on the health care patio to watch history being made. The Cleveland Cavaliers did not earn their title by dominance. They rose to greatness through humility and hardship, and after decades of discouragement, they offered the city a glimpse of hope.
That same hopeful spirit pervaded the atmosphere of the Ursuline Convocation. With the grace of cranes, we gathered in conference rooms named after flowers, our fields of prayer and fellowship. It was a time of joy and sorrow, sunshine and rain. We felt the stormy gusts of violence raging through our nation as we received word about the shooting in Dallas. Yet amidst the physical and spiritual storms, I remembered the prayer of the crane. I could picture it “soar out of a stormy cloud, like some long-forgotten dream.” At the end of the final evening’s liturgy, I joined hands with the Mexican sisters. We formed a lengthening chain that wove around the room to the chorus of one of my favorite songs, “We Are Called.”
In light of an uncertain future, today we dance.
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